Willing Victim (15 page)
“But don’t worry, not ’til we get better at not having sex.”
“That might be awhile,” Laurel said, tightening her hold.
He moaned. “Probably. So don’t worry, you’re safe for a couple years at least. Now how about it? Let me give you what you need. Let me take you out of your head for a few minutes.”
Laurel smiled and bit her lip, nodded.
Flynn got to his feet and eased the dimmer switch down until the lights were barely on. He went to his closet, came back with a short length of rope in each hand. He knelt at her feet, staring until her eyes left the ropes to meet his.
“You trust me?”
She gave it a second’s serious thought, already knowing the answer. “Yes. I do.”
“You want this?”
She nodded.
“Sit up.”
She did. She let Flynn bind her ankles, tie her wrists behind her back—real this time, no way out. He connected her arms with enough slack that when she lay back down her fists rested at her sides, the rope between them pulled taut beneath her ass. She tested the bindings and felt a scary thrill from the sensation, true physical helplessness. The bite of the rope as she tugged was taunting, as cruel as the heat in Flynn’s expression. His knees were spread wide between her own, hands kneading her thighs. One left to move to his cock, stroking until he was stiff and ready. His eyes traveled along her body from her pussy to her belly to her breasts, up her throat, stopping at her lips. His body followed, strong legs straddling her chest and pinned arms. He angled his cock to her mouth and brushed it across her lips.
“Taste me.”
She slid her tongue out, savoring his excitement. He held himself there and she teased his slit, sucked his swollen head until she roused his moan.
“Fuck, that’s so hot. You want more?”
She answered with suction, wrapping her lips tight around him.
“I’m gonna fuck your mouth,” he whispered. “If I do something you can’t handle, use your teeth. You know, gentle—but let me know.”
She freed her mouth enough to say, “I will.”
He leaned over, braced one arm at the top of the mattress, guided his cock with the other hand. He adjusted his knees until he got the distance right. She took what he gave her, four thick inches, sucking as his hips slid him out, then back in, setting the pace. She wanted her hands free to touch his body but accepted the frustration, made it part of the thrill. Flynn wrapped a fist around his base, either to keep from thrusting too deep or give himself pleasure, perhaps both.
“Oh that’s so good. Keep taking me. Moan for me.”
She obeyed, offering a deep, vibrating noise as he fucked her mouth. He worked himself deeper a half an inch at a time and Laurel kept the suction hard, finding it reduced the gagging. Flynn’s hand moved to his balls. He squeezed and rubbed, making Laurel ache to touch him. She reveled in the warm weight of his thighs against her arms, the presence and energy of him.
“Yeah. Yeah. Take my cock. Suck me.” He moved his hand to her face, her temple, her hair. His thrusts came slow, deeper, deeper still until his head bumped the back of her throat, triggering a protest. He pulled out and rested back on his haunches.
“I like seeing you tied up, sweetheart.”
Heat bloomed in her chest at the words. “Good,” she murmured. “Do you want me to pretend I don’t want it?”
“Not tonight. Right now I just want that look. Helpless and hungry.”
He leaned over to grab a condom off the shelf. She watched him roll it down his cock, her body tightening with anticipation, studying all that hard muscle, hers by some filthy miracle.
“God, you look amazing,” she whispered.
“You like my body?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I like when you take care of me,” he said. “And I love fucking you more than you can possibly know. You make my cock feel so
fucking
big when you look at me like that.” He turned her by the hip, coaxed her legs to the side, bent, shoulders still mostly on the mattress. He planted his knees wide behind her ass, a hot palm on her hip as the other hand stroked his erection.
“Fuck me, Flynn.”
“When I’m ready.”
“Please. Now.” She licked her lips, so ready to feel him slide into her pussy and ease the hunger.
He teased his tip up and down the crack of her ass. The hand on her hip slid between her thighs, big fingers finding her wet, getting slick before they rubbed her clit, pinching the hard nub, giving her that mix of pleasure and pain he was so damn good at.
“Give me your cock, Flynn.”
“Be patient.” Wet fingers toyed with her folds, taunted with shallow exploration.
“Fuck patient, Flynn. Gimme that hard cock.”
“Fine.” Threat, not surrender.
She watched his face, stern and calm as he smeared her wetness between her thighs then all up and down his shaft. “Fine,” he said again, barely audible.
Laurel gasped at the sheer heat of him. Each inch of hard, thick cock pushed between her thighs, drove hard into her pussy until he had no more to give. He held there a full minute, letting her feel him throb and twitch, making her wait.
“C’mon, Flynn, please.”
“Turn on to your side.”
She shifted her shoulders, facing the wall. His dick slid out, all the way out, then rammed back in to the hilt.
“God yes—”
He cut off her triumph with a mean tug on the rope stretched between her bound wrists. It pulled her arms back, tweaked her top shoulder and sent a little burst of pain like static shock straight down to her fingertips.
“Don’t rush me,” he warned.
“I need more.”
Another tug, slow this time, stopping when Laurel gasped at the strain.
“You know how I feel about impatience.”
She held her breath, relieved when he let the rope go. His hands grasped her hip and waist, kept her still as he started to fuck.
He held his composure a few moments before a harsh, hissing breath told Laurel the pleasure was trumping his intent to act cold and controlled.
“God, I fucking love your cunt.”
She squeezed herself tighter around him, earning a fierce grunt, then a hard slap on the ass.
“Keep it tight like that,” he ordered.
Laurel obeyed, making her pussy a fist, intensifying the pleasure for both of them. He spanked her again.
“God, Flynn.”
“That’s right. Say my name. Tell me who’s fucking that tight cunt.”
“Flynn.” Each time she said it, his palm came down with another slap. By the tenth strike the sting turned savage, leaving Laurel teetering on the threshold between pleasure and true pain. She held her tongue and winced, unsure if she could expect another slap for disobeying.
Instead she felt a tug at the bindings. She steeled herself for the punishment, but after a few seconds’ gentle fumbling her wrists were free, the rope strung between them gone. Flynn’s cock left her and she flexed her fingers, reclaiming circulation as he moved to untie her ankles. She turned on to her back and he came down on her, his huge body spreading her thighs, dick driving home.
“Touch me,” he said.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” He was frantic, all that cool self-possession gone, his face buried against her shoulder. “I want your hands on me.”
She slid one hand to his ass, fisted his hair in the other. She tugged until he brought his head back and she kissed him, rough, ending with a little bite on his lower lip.
“I wanna get fucked,” he moaned.
“Fine.”
He flipped them over, lay back while Laurel found her balance, straddling his hips. She fanned her fingers over his ribs, knowing he could handle her weight as she took charge of the sex.
“God yeah. Use me, sweetheart.”
They fell silent, lost in each other’s bodies. A slideshow of emotions passed over Flynn’s damp face—need, pleasure, desperation, then a warm look of unmistakable fondness. He smiled up at Laurel, seeming exhausted.
“What?”
“You mean what you said? About looking for jobs?”
“Yeah.”
He made a greedy noise and grinned, hands guiding her hips for a handful of thrusts.
“And maybe after a few more months and a fresh pair of blood tests,” she said, “you might get that other wish of yours.” She clenched her pussy tight and gave his cock slow, long pulls, imagining how he’d feel, releasing inside her, bare.
His hands grabbed her waist and he moaned, pushing deep.
She watched his eyes close, his face turn helpless. And she wanted him. Wanted to be here to patch him up, to call him on his bullshit and get called out in return, to explore the darker depths of her mind and body with this patient, real, occasionally obnoxious man.
“I love when you look this defenseless,” she murmured, grinning evilly at him.
“Not many women ever manage to get me on my back,” he said, voice shallow and scratchy.
“You better keep me around then.”
“Why d’you think I was so keen to tie you down?” The words hitched with his uneven breaths. “Fuck, Laurel.”
The sound of her name, two choked syllables rising from his throat as he gave her all the power felt like a filthy, sacred proclamation. She stared at his strained face.
Fall in love with me.
“Laurel.”
Fall in love with me.
“You keep—looking at me like that—and I swear—I’ll let you wear the pants—any night you want.”
She froze in mid-pull, holding him still, deep inside her body. She grinned down at his sweaty face. “Beg me.”
“Laurel.”
“Beg me and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll lose your fucking mind.”
He sounded as though he already had. “Please. Fuck me, please.”
She eased her pussy off his cock then claimed his hard length again, rough.
“God, fuck. Please, Laurel.”
“Fall in love with me.” Horror slapped her hard in the face as the words tumbled out of her subconscious into the air between them.
“I will,” he said, still panting, still lost in the fucking.
“I didn’t mean that.”
He laughed, sounding exasperated. “Fine. But you keep treating me the way you have been, and I will. Whether you like it or not.” He groaned. “But I won’t say it in the middle of getting my brains fucked out, so relax.”
She didn’t reply, kept her body moving as her head overheated. As always, he could read her. Her fears stacked up like bricks between them but he took the wheel. He flipped them over, gave her the reassurance of the bed against her back and his weight on her body, the relief of not being in charge.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous… Actually,” he said, “be as ridiculous as you want. I’ll still want you. Be as irrational as your little heart desires. I’ll keep buying you beer and driving your ass home.”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “Now might be a good time to try out that mouth guard.”
He half masked his grin with an insulted glower and let their bodies take over communicating. Laurel gave herself up to the sex, dissolved like sugar into the blissful knowledge that tonight, she was enough. When his chest brushed hers she wrapped her arms around his back, grateful for his strength. Grateful he might be in her corner when she decided she was ready to learn how to be strong again herself.
About the Author
Cara McKenna writes smart erotica: a little dark, a little funny, definitely sexy and always emotional. She lives north of Boston with her extremely good-natured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped inside her own head, Cara can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop or the nearest duck-filled pond.
Cara welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
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